


You and I were broken around the same time

by hopeinyourheart



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, LFC, Liverpool F.C., M/M, and the tag needs to be updated so ill do it myself, cus its just sat there in my drafts all sad and alone, hes a good man, no but seriously i miss them, props to dejan for always being their wingman in all my fics, this has been written for a while and its time to be posted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:51:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeinyourheart/pseuds/hopeinyourheart
Summary: “How was Italy?” He doesn’t know why he asks. He didn’t know what else to say but he had to break the crushing silence before it engulfed him.Emre returns to Liverpool, Dejan tries to fix things





	You and I were broken around the same time

**You and I were broken around the same time**  

“How are you?” They're stood in the games room at Melwood. Loris has avoided this all day. Avoided him.  

He doesn’t turn towards him when he speaks, instead looks across the bright green pitch as the sun beams down on it. Loris can hear him shuffling forward, can hear the scuff of his trainers against the marble floor.  

When Dejan had told him he was coming back, Loris had wanted to call in sick. Instead he drove his car here, acted normal and avoided him at every turn of the day. And it was going fine. Until now. He doesn’t know how he ended up here alone but he hates it. 

“You good?” He asks. Loris thinks about getting back to training. They had an influx of games soon. He doesn’t care to have small talk. Not now. Not ever.  

He turns away from the window and looks anywhere but at Emre’s face as he heads towards the door. 

* 

Emre watches him turn around, hope rising in his chest. he just wanted to talk to him, hear his voice again, see his face. The corners of his lip turn up slightly until he realises that Loris isn't looking at him.  

He walks straight ahead and out the door like he was never there. 

Emre swings back on his heels and sighs, running a hand over his face and feeling his heart break even more.   

* 

Loris walks onto the training ground and fuels all his energy into catching every ball thrown at him. Throws back with vigor and focuses on the rinse and repeat of the same pattern.  

It keeps him focused. Throw, catch. Repeat. It was easy. Routine. Not out of the blue.  

Afterwards he showers.  

“Loris,” Dejan calls still wrapped in a towel as Loris packs his things away ready to leave for the day. “Finally. Want to play a game of a FIFA.”  

Loris really wasn’t in the mood, “Here?” he swings his backpack onto his shoulders.  

“Yeah.” He knows what Dejan is doing. Emre is still upstairs in the games room and Dejan would try his hardest to get them to work things out. Apart from Loris didn’t want to. He tightens his grip on the strap and shakes his head no. 

“Come on Lo just one game.”  

“I'm tired Dej. Another time.”  

Dejan sighs defeated and Loris would feel bad but he doesn’t want to sit in a room with someone he used to know and pretend everything is fine.  

He walks past the black range rover that was foreign in this car park now and climbs into his own and when he gets home, he invites his friends round to block out all the events that happened today.  

* 

 _He doesn’t_ _kno_ _w_ _how to say goodbye._  

 _He_ _knows_ _he has to. He_ _kno_ _w_ _s_ _they deserve some_ _ac_ _kno_ _w_ _ledgment_ _of his departure but he also can’t face it. He doesn’t want to see them sad or upset or angry at him._  

 _They had been teammates for four years and even the ones he’s_ _kno_ _w_ _n_ _for a shorter time were still important to him because they were family. They would all always be family so Emre finds himself unable to walk into a room or a leaving party and see their faces as they celebrate his departure._  

 _Loris hadn't_ _spoken to him in three days._ _Kloppo_ _announced it to the team after a training session and Emre refused to look any of them in the eye. Dejan said he was happy for him and some of the others clapped him on his back and wished him luck but he couldn_ _'_ _t bring himself to say goodbye._  

 _He packs his things up while_ _L_ _oris_ _is out of the house._  

 _His agent gets his plane ticket ready and buys him an apartment in a city he doesn’t_ _kno_ _w_ _._  

 _When Loris returns he kisses him on the mouth with no response from the other man and promises to keep in touch. Says he’ll be back within the month and they’ll talk all the time, all the while Loris looks anywhere but at him. Outside his agent's car tire’s squeal against the tarmac and Emre_ _kno_ _w_ _s_ _he has to leave._  

 _“_ _I love you_ _,”_ _he whispers against Loris’ ear placing a final kiss against his cheek and he walks out the door with a heavy heart and tears stinging his eyes and on the way to the airport they fall down his cheek._  

 _He never does say goodbye but he hopes they understand that he couldn’t. That he wasn’t leaving them forever. They would always hold a special place in his heart, his mind and his life. They would always be family and he couldn’t bare to say goodbye to them. Not when it took everything in his to make this decision._  

 _He hopes they don’t hate him when he makes the decision to unlock his phone and open_ _whatsapp_ _. It's the only way he_ _kno_ _w_ _s_ _how to move on, to leave them behind.  it wasn’t for him anymore, it was a group chat for the team, for the family and all his privileges were revoked. His hands shake as he confirms his decision and after he gulps through the emotion in his throat, texts Dejan to take care of Loris and that he would be back and then slots the phone back into his pocket and goes through the motions of leaving his life behind._  

Emre can has left the chat.  

* 

“Did you talk to him?” Dejan asks when he's come back in from training. Emre spent the day talking to the staff and listening to the stories of the team while he’d been away. A certain kind of nostalgia rises in his chest and for a second, he wonders why he ever left. 

He doesn’t regret his decision but he missed this part of his life more than he ever realised. 

He was currently in the games room, having made his way back here after he made the rounds of Melwood, greeting the canteen ladies and the technicians and some trainers. It was a nice catch up. Emre hadn’t allowed himself to miss them but he did.  

“He won't talk to me,” he tilts his head back against the couch. Dejan shoves a controller into his hands. 

“So, what you’re just going to give up. That easy.”  

Emre looks at the ceiling, lets out of a breath. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“You can't just give up. Your coming back to the team and he's part of it so sort your differences before it affects everyone.”  

“I’m not giving up,” he tells the ceiling.  

“Looks like you are. Come on.” 

Emre tilts his head towards the tv. Sees Dejan FIFA team set up. Knows he's going to get beat even as he sets his own up.  

“He won't talk to me. How am I supposed to do anything if he doesn’t talk to me.”  

“Figure it out.”  

“I don’t know how.” 

“I’m not your therapist Dejan tells him the same time he scores the first goal. He smirks right in Emre’s face. The game ends 7-0. Emre doesn’t even care.   

* 

“Need a place to stay Dejan asks as they make they’re way out of Melwood.  

“Still got my old place,” Emre tells him before Dejan says “fix it” and climbs into his own car. Emre takes the familiar route to his old home at the edge of the city. A place where the sea rocked against the shore and the people were quiet. He pulls into the driveway, unlocks the door and steps into a hallway that was home for many years. 

He kicks off his shoes like he hasn’t been away for two years, hangs his coat up. The house is cool and empty but it was still his home. He grabs a glass of water and watches the waves roll in slowly, stood on the patio.  

He didn’t have this in Italy. The feeling of home. 

Friends a few doors down. 

Loris a couple streets over.  

He dials his number again. Is met with the beep tone like so many times before. He sighs ‘ _fix it_ _’._  

He would do anything to make this right.  

* 

The next day he flies back to Italy. He has things to collect and a team to say goodbye too. This time it doesn’t feel as hard, doesn’t feel anything but routine. Returning to Liverpool seemed exactly right and extremely tough. Saying goodbye to Turin felt like an event in the story he knew was bound to happen.  

Before that he walks down the beach, lets the wind blow against his cheeks. It wasn’t warm today but he welcomes the cold like a blanket, like comfort and warmth, something that felt real instead of the glare of the sun beating against his skin relentlessly, savored the cool air in his lungs and through his hair as he took a few deep breaths listening to the seagulls and the movement of the sea.  

He'd spent many nights here on the shore watching the sea slosh back and forth calmly, the noise soothing him and his nerves. He stands there for another few minutes before heading back through the house and leaving through the front door.  

The glaring Italian sun needs him back. The winds of Liverpool push him away.  

* 

 _Loris awakens him when he climbs beneath the covers, cold feet sliding against his own, startling Emre a little. He looks restless and wide awake like something was eating away at him and Emre knew he was go_ _ing to_ _spend most of the night in a jittery anxious mess._  

 _“_ _What_ _'_ _s wrong_ _?”_ _Loris shrugs and he's shivering slightly,_ _“_ _can't sleep?_ _”_ _Loris shakes his head. Emre sighs shuffling closer and running a hand down his side,_ _“_ _come on_ _,”_ _he climbs out of bed, walking towards the door_ _;_ _Loris trailing slowly behind him._  

 _They end up walking the length of the beach at_ _th_ _r_ _ee_ _in the morning, the moon reflecting off the water is calming and peaceful and they eventually sit at the edge of the water taking in the noise and movement of the waves. This is where they came when they couldn’t sleep “_ _what_ _'_ _s_ _wrong?”_  

 _“Nothing.” Emre_ _kno_ _w_ _s_ _he’s lying. The stars were out and the wind was cold but Loris eventually relaxes enough to stop shaking, leaning his head on_ _Emres_ _shoulder, “Can't sleep.”_  

 _“I_ _kno_ _w_ _.”_  

 _“_ _I_ _’_ _m really tired._ _”_  

 _“_ _What_ _’_ _s bothering you_ _?”_  

 _“I-,” Loris shrugs. “I don’t_ _kno_ _w_ _, I just can't sleep.”_  

 _Emre leans his head on top of Loris’ pulling him closer,_ _“_ _there_ _’_ _s no reason_ _?”_  

 _“_ _I can't stop thinking_ _.”_  

 _“_ _About what_ _?”_  

 _“_ _Just things,_ _”_ _Emre closes his eyes briefly_ _._  

 _“_ _Things_ _aren_ _’_ _t as bad as they seem_ _Lo_ _, they don’t mean anything._ _”_  

 _“I_ _kno_ _w_ _.”_  

 _“_ _Then stop thinking_ _.”_  

 _“_ _That’s a good idea_ _,”_ _Loris whispers, stretching his legs out and pulling Emre down to lay in the sand, star gazing until the early hours of the morning._  

* 

He drives by Loris’ house on the way to the airport. Squares his shoulders and climbs out the car. Knocks on the door when so many times before he’d walk in, unlock the door with his own key. Now he stands waiting with his hands in pocket.  

He rings the bell. There’s still no response. His car is still in the drive. Emre sighs, turns around and makes his way back to an unfamiliar city. 

He drops by Dejan’s on the way, says a quick goodbye, texts the rest of the lads that he’ll see them soon.  

The plane journey is routine.  

He puts his sunglasses on and heads towards his apartment through a bustle of traffic.  

* 

The incessant knocking wakes him from his sleep. He groans as he climbs out of bed,  _what could anyone possibly want at this time of morning?_  

He checks his phone which reads eight am and rolls his eyes at what seems like the one thousandth knock at the door. He pulls back the curtain and peers out at the sky which stings his sleep-tired eyes. Looking down he sees Emre’s black range rover outside his house.  

He lets the curtain fall quickly closed and takes a step back, his heart pounding too loudly in his ears. He knocks again and Loris needs a second to breathe. Before this he would have opened the door and climbed the stairs and joined him in bed or made him breakfast or lounged on the couch. Now he was knocking insistently like a policeman. 

Loris sits on the bed and sighs. The knocking rings through the empty house. Getting up he heads towards the stairs ready to fling the door open and tell him to fuck off but a second later the knocking stops and then the screech of wheels and an engine is the only noise and then the house is silent again.  

Loris sits at the top of the stairs and feels his heart drop again.

* 

 _Loris hears the sque_ _a_ _l of the door being pushed open and the floorboards creaking under the weight of footsteps._  

 _His eyes stay glued to the ceiling, running over the lines and the shapes and the stark white, over and over again making his vision blurry and unfocused. The tears stopped some time ago after pooling in his collarbones and his ears, drying on his cheeks, making his skin feel rubbery._  

 _The sound of the rain echoes around Loris' mind, the only thing he can focus on and when the hands touch his skin_ _,_ _he can't quite feel them. Someone peels him off the ground, slowly, lifting his head and then dragging his back up from the hard wood floor so he was in a sitting position._  

 _Loris looks straight ahead at the door, closed. His arms are lifeless by the side of him and when he's lifted from the ground and towards the living on the couch_ _,_ _he stares at the wall opposite him._  

 _He feels his hands wrap around a glass,_ _it_ _'_ _s_ _cold._  

 _"_ _D_ _rink it Loris," someone says from far away._  

 _Loris_ _stares at the wall_  

* 

“Open up Loris it's me.”  

Loris turns the heat down for his pancakes before opening the door. “It's me,” Dejan exclaims like Loris couldn’t see it was indeed him.  

“No shit! Really?” 

Dejan just grins and walks past him straight towards the kitchen. “Oooo pancakes.”  

“Those are mine,” Loris protests as Dejan swipes three and helps himself to a load of fruit and half a bottle of syrup. “Asshole, now I have to make more.”  

“So, make more then.” Loris just narrows his eyes at him and flips more pancakes. 

“What do you want anyway?”  

“Free breakfast.” 

“We get that at Melwood. You didn’t even know I was making breakfast so spill.”   

They spend a few minutes in silence, Loris finishes making the pancakes and Dejan chews on his slowly.  

“Spill,” Loris says through a bite of food.  

Dejan doesn’t say anything whilst savoring his pancakes. “Good,” he mumbles halfway through. Loris nods at him with a grin.  

“Spill Dejan,” Loris follows him into the living room, they didn’t have training until the afternoon so they were free all morning.  

“Did you talk to him?” Dejan lounges back against the cushions, holding Loris’ remote like he paid for the damn thing.  

“Talk to who?” Loris settles on the opposite couch.  

“Emre,” Dejan says easily.  

Loris tenses up. “Really Dejan.” 

“What?” 

“No, I didn’t and I don’t want to.” 

“He just wants to talk.” 

“Well I'm done talking, I'm done caring, stop talking about him Dejan im past giving a fuck. Im over it. I've moved on, stop bringing him up.” 

“Well he's coming back here so you’re going to see him every day so avoiding him isn't going to work. Don’t let your shit affect the team.” 

“It won't.”  

“Well it could.”  

“It won't,” Loris snaps. 

Dejan holds his hands up in defeat knowing full well he wasn’t at all past caring.  

“You’ve been miserable without him,” Dejan tries slowly. Loris glares daggers at him. It’s been two years Lo maybe if you both talk you can move on or resolve the issue or get some closure.”  

“I told you I'm fine, I don’t want anything to do with him.” 

“Alright,” Dejan breathes.  

* 

“You still haven’t spoken to him,” Dejan screams down the line. Emre pulls the phone away from his ear and covers the speaker.  

He points at his phone as he walks away from the team dinner but only Dybala seems to have acknowledged him; the rest are deep in some debate that Emre couldn’t get a hold of. It was half in Italian and Spanish and he was clueless. He walks out into the musty air and stretches his muscles from sitting for too long. 

“What?” he puts his phone back to his ear. 

“You said you’d speak to him and you haven’t,” Dejan yells again. 

“I-,” Emre stutters. “I don’t know what to say to him.”  

“You don’t know what to say him? Are you kidding me Emre.” 

“Listen Dejan I'm kinda busy, goodbye dinner I can't get out of.” 

“I don’t give a crap about your dinner Emre, I'm gonna fly over there and slap you silly.” Emre sighs and walks towards his car climbing in and switching up the ac. The white noise is welcome in the empty space.  

“Can I at least call you when you when I get home?” 

“How long will it take to get home?”  

“Forty minutes,” Emre lies resting his head back against the seat.  

“I’m calling you back in dot forty minutes Emre if you don’t pick up I'm booking the next flight out don’t even fucking try me.”  

Emre sighs. Throws his phone in the cupholder and pulls out of the carpark. It'd only take him twenty minutes to get home but he needed some time to think. He'd have to say sorry to the team tomorrow, make some excuse about last minute packing and leave it at that. Besides he doesn’t think they would be too bothered but for now he takes the long way home.  

The streets are empty and for once Emre isn't glad.  

* 

Emre returns to the apartment twenty-five minutes later. He kicks his shoes off, gets himself some water, switches the lights on, sprawls on the living room couch and flips through the tv for a while and just as promised his phone rings exactly 40 minutes later. Emre doesn’t doubt he had a timer ticking down the seconds until he could tear into him again.  

“You home?” he asks. Emre can hear the underlying concern;  _did you get home safely?_  

“Yeah.” 

"You promised Emre!" And that’s it he's back to yelling. “You were here, you came home, you live a street away from him and yet you didn’t fix it.”  

“I don’t know how.” 

“If you say that one more time I'm going to replace your precious hair wax with super glue.”  

“I-Dejan-,” 

“Shut up, he's broken Emre. He barely speaks to anyone here. He keeps saying he's fine but he's not. I don’t know how to help him anymore. He misses you.” 

“He won't speak to me.” 

“You're barely trying-,” 

“I call him all the time,” Emre shouts frustrated; he  _was_ trying. What could he do? “I leave him several voicemails and texts. We're still best friends Dejan, I even went by his house but he didn’t open up I don’t know what else to do. He just won't talk to me.” 

“Well you can’t just step back into his life and expect it all to the same. He was a mess when you left. I had to peel him off the ground.” Emre gulps against the guilt. “And if you’re looking for things to say maybe you should start with,  _I'm sorry Loris, I'm an idiot Loris, I miss you every single day Loris. I love you Loris._  If you need more suggestions you can build a suggestion box and I'll be happy to stuff it to the brim with ideas seeing as your dumbass needs all the help it can get,” Dejan snarks. Emre deserves it.  

“I’m good,” he says instead. And then after a while. “I really miss him Dejan.” His chest constricts as he says the words and he tries to keep his voice steady but it cracks and he cries a little.  

Dejan sighs, “I know you do. Tell him that Emre. I’m sick of seeing both your miserable fucking faces.” Emre chuckles a little. “I’m not expecting you to feel guilty for leaving, but he’s hurt and when he eventually comes around, he’ll see that you’re trying because he will come around. Just don’t give up on him, not if you still really care.”  

“I'm going to fix it,” he says with a new-found determination.   Emre isn't sure how he's survived two years of his life without Dejan. In hindsight he hasn’t done pretty well.  

* 

“How was Italy?” He doesn’t know why he asks. He didn’t know what else to say but he had to break the crushing silence before it engulfed him. They were stuck in a small medical room at Anfield. Loris curses the people that had to choose both him and Emre for random doping tests. He wants to smack his head against the wall.  

“Good,” comes the reply after a short moment of silence. “Sunny.” 

Loris nods. “It's sunny in Liverpool too.” He doesn’t know why he says that.  

Emre nods too. A medical member of staff walks back into the room and starts the mandatory tests, both men fall into silence then until the medic disappears again.  

“Loris,” Emre starts taking a short step towards him. Loris steps back, the pain on Emre’s face does nothing to mend his already broken heart. “I just want to talk,” he tries again, “can we get dinner?”  

The doc walks in again with a few other people that go through more doping procedures before declaring their free and walking out the room leaving both men standing in awkward silence. “Loris please.” 

“I gotta go,” Loris says after a while of standing there. Emre looks down at his shoes. Loris looks anywhere but his face as he heads towards the door. 

“Wait.” Emre watches him stop midway to the door, “I’m sorry.” Loris shakes his head and continues on towards the door. 

“Loris wait please,” Emre begs stepping in front him before he gets to the door. “Just listen please. I just want to talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you.”  

“I’m trying to fix things, we can't go on like this.” Loris looks down at his shoes, nods slightly in disbelief. 

“Move out the way.” 

“Just listen.” Loris pushes him aside. “Loris please,” Emre reaches for him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me. I don’t want to fix shit now move out the fucking way.”  

“I still love you,” Emre whispers. 

Loris slams the door shut behind him.   

* 

Loris slams the open and closed in the same breath, storming through the house on a man hunt. The house seems to be empty making Loris’ temper triple tenfold, until he gets to the patio doors and sees a flash of black hair on the beach. Swinging the door open he flies down the steps.  

“What the fuck is your problem?!” 

Emre startles looking up at the offending voice, blinking twice before looking towards the water again. He knew this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time. Loris scoffs, “just stay from me.”  

“I can't.”  

“What?”  

“I miss you,” he says simply, “I miss you Lori.”  

Loris shakes his head and walks away, “so you cause a scene in front of our teammates?” He asks incredulously.  

“You won't talk to me.” 

“You have a serious problem you know that.” Emre looks up at him.  

“I’ve been back for months and you can't even look at me, we’re teammates too,” he waves his hands back and forth, “yet you can't put your own feelings aside to treat me as such. Don’t come here screaming at me because you sound like a hypocrite.”  

“Why did you come back you should have just stayed gone!” Loris screams.  

“You don’t mean that.” Emre stands up brushing off grains of sand from his shorts. 

“Don’t tell me what I mean, you don’t know me.” 

Emre's face crumples. 

Loris continues, “You can't just swan in and out of my life whenever you feel like it.” 

“I’m not trying to.” 

Loris shakes his head and walks away. “Just stay away from me,” he mutters walking towards the stairs. 

“Loris wait,” Emre pleads. 

“For what Emre I'm done with you. You want to be treated like a teammate, fine, we are. We're not friends anymore.” 

“Can we just start again?” Emre half begs, stepping towards him, watching Loris revert backwards.  

“No.” 

“But-”  

“Just shut up Emre!” he yells, “It was so easy for you. You walked out and didn’t look back once and I was left with the same club and same patterns but you weren't there to drive me home and I forgot to buy the fucking groceries. I couldn’t forget Emre, everywhere I turned there was a reminder of you, and then a reminder that you left. I was going insane.” 

Emre feels like he's been stabbed. He takes a moment to breathe through the pain. “It wasn’t easy for me.”  

“Yeah seemed like it. You seemed more than happy to walk away and break up with me through a group whatsapp message.” 

“Loris, that-, that wasn’t for you, that was-,” 

“Fuck off Emre, you left me behind for a new life. I loved you asshole and I was happy for you, as much as I hated it, I- I hate you.” 

“Loved?” Emre whispers slumping down against the ground. He digs his hands into the sand, feels the grains between his fingers and lets the coolness soothe him. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the sound of the waves, breathes in time to them sloshing against the shore.  

“You loved me,” Emre squeaks past the lump in his throat.  

“We were together for two years you know I loved you.” 

Emre nods, “but you don’t anymore?” He doesn’t know why he asks, why he wants to know something that feels like it's crushing his windpipes to a million different pieces.  

He unscrews his eyes and looks out across the water. It was calm, moved slowly against the edge of the sand and back out again. He watches it transfixed like he's never seen it before when in actuality he's stood on this very beach a thousand times before.  

He snaps out of his thoughts. “I don’t know,” Loris whispers slumping down on the stairs. “You can't just waltz back in and expect everything to be the same, I didn’t need you anymore, I’m not the same person, you can't just- we can't-,” he stutters.  

Emre nods still facing the water.  

He tugs at the strands of his hair, remembers learning how to live a new life, a new language, new people, people who didn’t know him, an apartment that held the essentials of furniture and food and his belongings but nothing that felt like home. Remembers wanting something that was too far away and it was selfish to want him after leaving for himself, right?  

People always said he couldn’t have it all but he had Loris and a football career and he thought maybe he was the first person that could. That could be truly happy without losing anything. Until he wanted more and he was sat in a strange apartment, alone in a foreign country with nothing but the echoes of a ticking clock and the memories of a past he couldn’t hold onto.  

When he turns around Loris has disappeared. His tears sink into the sand. 

* 

 _“_ _Morning_ _.”_  

 _The sun was low in the sky, on the_ _waters_ _edge, casting a yellow and orange hue across the horizon._ _“_ _Morning_ _,”_ _Emre croaks back voice still sleep tired wrapping his arms around Loris from behind, pressing his lips to the side of his neck before slumping down on the seat beside him. He hated mornings but Loris was always up too early for his liking. There was breakfast and cut fruit_ _layed_ _out on the patio table and if Emre didn’t know the man like the back of his hand he would think the freshly squeezed orange juice was store brought._  

 _Loris_ _K_ _arius_ _liked to impress. The smirk on his face when Emre takes a sip is too smug and Emre would shake his head and call him a smug asshole but this moment was perfect. The sun bounces of his face, glowing against the backdrop of the ocean, Emre commits it to memory, emotion rising in his chest._  

 _Emre_ _could grow old with this sight. Loris sat beside him, the waves moving slightly. Loris did this every_ _sunday_ _, claiming it was their only day to be normal_ _E_ _mre_ _. So_ _E_ _mre_ _woke up at the crack of dawn, ate the breakfast his boyfriend made and spent the rest of the morning in comfortable silence. Lips press against his cheek before the metal chair scrapes against the wooden patio,_ _L_ _oris clears the table,_ _E_ _mre_ _collects a book from the shelf in the living room._  

 _They sprawl out on the sand, Loris with his head on Emre's abdomen, he spends the time catching up with his family, Emre reads until the sun is directly above them beaming down, warming their skin. The seagulls cast a shadow when they fly past the sun, Emre runs a hand through Loris’ hair._  

 _*_  

Loris walks through the house and slams the car door closed, starting up his car but he doesn’t drive away.  

He looks at himself in the rear-view mirror, slumping against the back of the seat, anger and pain draining the life out of him. 

He was sick of being angry and hurt, tired of being mad at Emre, just tired. He was back. It was all he wished for and now he was pushing him away again.  

He turns the engine off and presses his forehead into the steering wheel. 

* 

Emre peels himself off the sand, walking back into his house, the sound of Loris’ car engine echoes throughout his house. He presses his palms into the kitchen counter head hung low and resists the urge to punch the fridge as he tries to calm his breathing. 

“I tried so hard to hate you,” Emre jumps out of his skin, “don’t turn around, I just-,” Emre stares at his reflection in the window opposite him, “I tried moving on but instead- I never did. I’m tired of being mad at you,” he trails off, “if I let myself love you again and you hurt me again, I'd hate you for real.” Emre does turn around then. 

“I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I know you didn’t mean it but you still did.” Emre peers at the floor. 

“Why did you come back in if your done with us?” 

Loris shrugs and walks forward, standing two feet away from Emre, “I wanted to be done with you but the truth is for the past two years all I wished for is that you would walk back through those doors and when you did my wish had come true but all the pain came back with it. I came to the realisation that I was never done with you as much as I convinced myself I was.” 

“Does this mean you’re going to stop ignoring me.” 

The corner of Loris’ lips turns up slightly, "It means I'm done being mad at you.” Emre nods once, biting on his lower lip, “I want to start again, not where we left off,” Loris adds slowly watching Emre’s gaze dart up to meet his. Emre nods and reaches forward to place a hand on loris’ hip 

“We can do that,” Loris takes a step forward, “anything else you want?”  

Loris shrugs. The more he stares at Emre the more his anger drains away. Emre presses their foreheads together, the last bit of tension drains from Loris’ shoulders, sighing at the touch he missed for so long. Their mouths meet and their tongues slot together and for the first time in a long time Loris is able to think straight.  

He pulls away and smiles slightly “that’s a pretty good start,” he breathes earning a chuckle from Emre. 

“Guess it is," Emre locks their lips together again walking them backwards into the open living room towards the couches. 

* 

 _“Can we play football and be happy together?”_ _the sun shines too brightly to see past anything, fingers dance against blonde locks._  

 _“Yeah.”_ _seagulls cover the bright light casting a dark shadow over them._  

 _“How do you know?”_  

 _“Because we’re going_ _to_ _be_ _the first.”_ _the sun shines harshly in their eyes again but the two men smile at each other._  

 _“_ _Y_ _ou promise_ _?”_  

 _“_ _I promise_ _.”_  

**Author's Note:**

> yes the last lines are inspired by the song of Achilles because i was struggling with how to end this and all of sudden I remembered those lines and decided to incorporate them here because why not. Anyway, if you got this far I love you and thanks for reading. Scream at me about either the song of Achilles or the 5k angst I wish would happen like right now.


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